


An Old Orlesian Solution

by simplesonnets



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Red Lyrium, Sex Pollen, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:43:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesonnets/pseuds/simplesonnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A routine battle against a group of Red Templar separates an injured Meena Adaar from her companions. Fortunately, Michel de Chevin is more than willing to help his Inquisitor in any way he can.</p>
<p>Written as a fill for a Dragon Age kinkmeme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13890.html?thread=56865090#t56865090</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Orlesian Solution

**Author's Note:**

> Its been ages since I've written anything worth posting and I've never written smut before, so yeah. This is a thing and I hope it doesn't suck too bad.

After a year and a half as the Inquisitor, there wasn’t much about war that could phase Meena Adaar. Months of fighting hardened the Tal-Vashoth mercenary beyond caring about the frequency of battle. A fight against Corypheus's forces was as inevitable as the sunrise. One could bide their time until it came, but you could never delay it.

Meena knew that no matter what she did, the Anchor would never allow her to rest. Every day was a fight to live. Sure, it wasn’t the healthiest outlook on things, but it worked for her. At least it did until she came across the Red Templar in Emprise du Lion.  

She struggled to comprehend the endless supply of Red Templar that plagued the frozen expanse. Like a monster of legend when one fell, three more rose in its place and were just as terrible as the first.

Meena hated fighting them more than she hated any other enemy.

At the end of the day, demon ichor, bandit blood and dragon shit stood no chance against astringent spindleweed-oil soap. Remnants of those battles could be thrown out with the bath water. Flesh consuming red lyrium, however, would not vanish with a brisk rub with a wash rag. It was the red lyrium’s insidious nature that made Meena afraid of the Red Templar, not their fierce fighting or numbers.

An army, she could handle. An enemy that could kill you with one unlucky scratch was stuff of nightmares.

That mid-afternoon battle had progressed like any other before it. The Red Templar fell upon them in waves and the Inquisition forces drove them away each time. On this wave things took a turn for the worst when fierce winds and burning snow throttled the visibility. Nature had become an unexpected ally to the Red Templar and made it all the more dangerous for Meena and her companions.

“We need to fall back!” Meena yelled as a bright barrier encircled her and Blackwall.

A massive Red Templar banged and wailed on other side of the invisible shield. She struggled to find her words as terror tied her stomach into knots.

“We can’t take much more of this. Vivienne’s run low on lyrium and I’m out of healing potions. Maker’s balls, even Cole is flagging.” She healed a gash on his arm.

 “Are you certain? The reinforcements will only be a moment longer,” Blackwall shouted over the wind.

She shook her head no. “A moment longer and we could get tainted with that awful red shit – or worse, dead. Gather Cole and make your way up the hill with Vivienne.”

He leveled her with a stern glare. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’ll have Ser Michel by my side, I’ll hardly be alone.” She tensed as the barrier flickered, warning of its eventual fall. “Go! It will only be a moment.”

The barrier fell and Blackwall ran as she had commanded. A fire blast left the massive Red Templar howling in her wake as she ran in the opposite direction.

Through the snow she caught a glimpse of the blond chevalier engaged with a hulking Red Templar. With a well-timed slide, she got in close and mind blasted the Red Templar into the snowy banks yards away.

He helped her up from the snow-covered ground. “We need to retreat. Finish off this one and we can – ”

A guttural bellow cut her off, and a second later, another Red Templar came barreling towards them. With reflexes honed from months of battle, Meena casted an ice glyph just in time to suspend the monster.

Meena cursed as three more Red Templar rounded the corner of the castle ruin. Ser Michel gestured over to a path across from them. Distracted by her companion, she noticed the half-frozen Red Templar’s movement a second too late.

A red crystal laced hand broke through the ice and into Meena’s arm. She screamed as it dug its claws through her leather armor and twisted them into her flesh. Ser Michel jammed his sword into the beast and pushed it away from her.

Through the haze of pain, she summoned lightning with her meager mana reserves. Blinding purple bolts sliced into the creatures as Meena and Ser Michel ran away to safety.

She clung to his arm for dear life as they ran blindly against the snow. The thought of succumbing to red lyrium made Meena's heart stutter in terror. With Vivienne far away, there wasn’t much she could do to heal herself.

Ser Michel, sensing her discomfort, uttered quiet reassurances as he guided her around snow-covered ruins. They walked down several flights of stairs until they reached the remnants of an old tower. He moved a crate along one of the broken walls to reveal a hatch door on the ground. Beneath the door was a rope ladder that led down into an inky black pit.

“There are several tunnels that run through the region. We will rest in there for a moment while the Templar search for us,” he told her as he prepared to descend. Meena was skeptical of the rickety looking ladder, but followed him down it anyway.

The pain in her arm intensified with every step she took down the rungs. She summoned every bit of strength left in her to keep her hold on to the ice-slicked ladder. The moment her feet touched the ground, Ser Michel rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist. She slung an arm around his neck and they took off down one of the tunnels.

The light provided by the shining blue top of her staff calmed some of Meena's growing panic. The tunnel looked better maintained than she thought it would. As far as she could tell, the Red Templar hadn't found a way down underground yet.

They walked for what felt like forever, until they stopped at an unmarked door. Meena rested against the freezing cold wall as Ser Michel picked the lock.

Midway through their journey, he had applied a tourniquet to Meena’s wounded arm. The blood loss had slowed considerable, but the pain continued to worry her. The Inquisitor had taken a great many blows over her twenty-four years, but the strange tingling cold that had begun to spread in her arm felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

“It will only be a moment longer, my lady.” Ser Michel glanced up at her. His eyes zeroed in on the blood soaked tourniquet. “If your magic cannot heal it, I have tools that can cauterize it.”

She sucked in a deep, steadying breath before she replied. “Don’t worry about that, just focus on gathering supplies if there are any to be found. I’ve got enough mana left to stop from bleeding out, but I can’t conjure blankets.”

Worry flitted across his handsome face at her words. Meena held up a hand to placate him.

“Not so much for me as they would be for you. My people’s blood runs hot, and I know that humans don’t have that benefit. The last thing I need is for one of my agents to freeze to death playing nursemaid.”

As time passed, the irregular pangs gave way to a low, steady throbbing pain. Meena sagged with relief when they finally entered the small, dust-caked room. It was one part storeroom and one part bedroom, with wall-to-wall shelves of jars and bottles and a bed. There was also a pair of chairs and a table on the other side of the room. Meena flicked a bit of magic at a heating enchantment on a wall as he took them past it. The heat wasn’t much, but it was preferable to the chill in the tunnel.

Ser Michel helped her down on to an old looking - but surprisingly strong - chair before checking around the room for supplies. After procuring a handful of candles, Meena lit one with her magic and used it to light the others. There was just enough light to allow him to continue his search without the help of her staff. While he continued to forage, Meena tended to her wounds.

It was not as ugly a sight as she feared it would be. The monster had mangled her flesh, but the damage was not beyond the scope of her depleted magic.

She heated a flask before pouring a bit of the warmed contents and a healing spell into her wound. A hiss tore from her throat the moment the hot alcohol hit her flesh. She repeated this until the flask was dry.

Meena dry heaved at the sight of red crystal floating in the small puddle of blood and wine that formed on the floor beneath her. That had been in her body, and Maker only knew how much more was still there.

Her eyes burned with gathering tears. If she died, Corypheus would on the cusp of victory. She couldn’t leave Thedas in its current state. There were rifts left to close and red lyrium veins to seal. Dragons to slay and quarreling nobles to mediate. So much left to do.

On top of that, to die of red lyrium after making it through the Conclave and Haven would be beyond cruel.

A loud thump on the table beside her brought her out of her maudlin thoughts. She took a quick inventory of the small bounty Ser Michel had piled on the table. A few threadbare quilts, several bottles of wine, and a set of dubiously cloudy jars of varying shades and hues. Meena wiped her eyes and felt a bit of comfort in the fact that she wasn’t alone.

The Inquisitor always took a strong interest in her agents. Many unique people made up the Inquisition, and their reasons for joining were equally varied. Meena felt like the more she knew about them, the more she could learn about the world itself.

Ser Michel de Chevin was the most interesting agent she'd met in recent memory. As far as Meena was aware, there weren't many agents that had both ties to demons and the Eluvians. It was an odd set of circumstances, yet Solas had only suggested that the chevalier knew a great deal more than an average human should.  Meena trusted Solas and if he wasn't suspicious of Ser Michel, then she neither was she. Besides, she felt anything but suspicious about the Orlesian.

Ser Michel was every bit the classically handsome chevalier she'd imagined one would be. His gentle snoufleur blue eyes had enchanted her the moment they'd met.  Over the course of many months in Emprise du Lion, she found herself getting lost in the intensity of his gaze far too often.

Even now, in the dim candle light of their refuge, he was achingly beautiful to her. The flickering lights drew her gaze to his full lips and sharp jaw. Her mouth watered at the thought of touching him. She wondered if the skin on his jaw would be rough under her lips. Would be vocal in his pleasure - muttering her name as he trembled under her touch? Or would he sigh and moan until she brought him to his peak and –

She felt light headed as she shook off such thoughts. There she was, shivering in her bloodied clothing, and he was all she could think about. It was futile fantasizing about a human man. He wouldn't have looked at with anything other than innocent curiosity if she didn’t have the Anchor. Meena was certain that she’d just be any other “oxwoman” to the Orlesian Chevalier. As kind and chivalrous as Ser Michel appeared to be, she knew the true ways of human men all too well.

She turned back to her work with a sigh, focusing her attentions on other scrapes and bruises. A shiver ran through her as lifted the tunic up and exposed her skin. It was worrying to feel the difference in temperature against her skin. Though she wasn’t as warm blooded as Iron Bull, Meena didn’t get cold as easily as humans did.

There was a numbing cold in the tips of her fingers that she hadn’t felt since Haven, and she had a bad feeling that the Red lyrium crystals that flowed through her system had something to do with it. 

After using the last of her mana on her wounds, Meena somehow felt even colder. The wound on her arm was the epicenter for the chilly waves that slowly flowed through her body. She slumped in her seat with a groan as lethargy settled into her chilled muscles. Meena was ready to give into her sudden exhaustion, when felt warm fingers grip her chin.

She heard Ser Michel tut in displeasure. “You feel too cool, Inquisitor.” His warm hands caressed her face. “Even with your warm blood, you could still catch your death in those wet clothes. Fortunately, I managed to find some dry clothes in one of the chests. They are not en vogue, but they appear to be as clean as one could hope.”

She eyed the bundle of clothes, but said nothing as she leaned into his touch. His warm and gentle touch was a balm against the piercing cold spreading through her.

“Inquisitor?” Her eyes fluttered up to meet his worried gaze. “Will you allow me to assist you out of your armor?”

She gave him a quick nod and shrugged off the rest of her jacket. With four hands at their disposal, they made quick work of it. Meena dried her damp skin and hair off with one of thin blankets before changing into the clothing on the table.

She sent a quiet thank you to the Maker for his find. The fact that the room had any clothing that fit her larger frame was a divine sign in and of itself. The yellow-white, roughspun tunic had room to spare in the shoulders, but her ample bosom strained against the front. The low rising linen pants fit snugly across her butt and thighs. It didn't matter to Meena if the clothing was ugly, she just wanted to get warmer. A burlap bag would've been preferable to the half frozen clothes now strewn about the floor.

As she worked through the tangles in her dark hair, she felt another oddly familiar feeling accompany the increasing chill. A wave of desire, stronger than anything she'd ever felt before, cut through her confusion.

Meena gasped as the violent pang of want ran through her, leaving her quim throbbing and her nipples pebbled in its wake. She fought to catch her breath as her hypersensitive unbound breasts rubbed against the rough material of the shirt. The friction against her dark peaks sent jolts of pleasure directly to her groin. She wanted – no needed – to touch them. She needed warm, work roughened hands to palm and pinch her mounds until she screamed in release.

Like a moth to a flame her eyes honed in on Ser Michel on the other side of the room. Meena choked back a groan as she took in the sight of his body in his borrowed clothes. Just like her own, they were too snug, accentuating his broad back and thickly muscled ass and thighs. Her mind whirled with images of how he would look without any of it on.

The wetness of her mounting arousal increased at the thought of feeling his skin upon her own. She crossed her legs and rubbed her thighs together, imagining how full she would feel on his length. How wet she would be for him and how hot and firm he would be for her. Her inner muscles pulsed and throbbed but did nothing to ease her voracious need.

Meena doubled over in her seat as another piercing chill spread throughout her body. Her jaw dropped in pain and a pitiful keening noise escaped from her throat. Panic bubbled at the back of her mind. Her arousal seemed to increase in time with every drop in her body temperature. There only seemed to be one logical solution to this problem, but - but would ever be willing to do that for her?

He rushed to her side as another chill racked her body.

“Inquisitor?”

“Ah – it’s the arm, I think I need to lie down a bit before we try to go back out. It’s been –” She slammed her hand over her mouth as another wave of need poured through her.

He helped her to her feet and put his arm around her waist like he did earlier in the tunnels. Her knees buckled at sensation of his hot body pressed against her.

“S-sorry,” she gasped. “I think you should let me go. I don’t want to crush you.”

He chuckled and tightened his hold around her waist. "There are far crueler ways to die than under a beautiful woman."

The old straw bed was covered in cedar chip scented blankets, and though it was not as comfortable as her bed at Skyhold – or even the cot she’d been using during her stay in Emprise du Lion – it was a welcome change from the chair.

Meena laid back and watched through hooded eyes as he tucked her into the blankets. Though Ser Michel reflected every bit of his chevalier training, he’d been genuinely concerned for her throughout this ordeal.

He did not call her “Inquisitor” with the distant reverence that so many other soldiers, agents, and even some companions, showed her. He called her “Inquisitor” with an easy smirk on his face and warmth in his voice. He called her “Inquisitor” with the same tone a friend would call her “Meena”, and that gave her some hope that he might be willing to help her.

He grabbed hold of her marked hand and turned to her with open, honest eyes. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

“My lady – Meena, if there is anything that I can do for the pain, know that I would be more than willing help you.”

“Th-there might be,” she told him through chattering teeth. “Th – ah – the red lyrium might’ve made me ill with a f-fierce chill. It has been increasing b-by the minute.”

He frowned and sat on the edge of the narrow bed.

“I d-d-don’t know if the blankets and clothes will be enough.” She didn’t want to die but Maker, this embarrassing. “I think that s-skin on skin contact may be the only way. I know I just put them on but –”

“It is fine Meena.”

She bit the inside of her cheek as Michel helped her out of the salvaged clothing. His fingers grazed her body in their awkward maneuvering around her injuries. Each touch was as clinical as the next but it didn’t lessen the pleasure she received from it. He whispered his apologies at every whimper that escaped her, not at all realizing that they weren’t cries of pain – but of desire.

The moment he turned away and reached for the hem of his shirt, Meena dropped her gaze down to her blanket covered legs. If it was just a chill from exposure, staying clothed and shivering beneath the blankets until her mana regenerated would’ve been the best option. But this went beyond wanting to warm up – she now craved the hot press of his skin against her own.

He wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her back against him. She melted into his embrace.

They laid together, skin to skin beneath the old blankets, for what felt like hours as her condition deteriorated further. Meena could no longer shiver and she struggled to breathe as her heartbeat slowed. Meena, weakened and drained by the growing cold, feared that she was running out of options.

She asked Ser Michel if he knew anything at all that might help. For a moment, he did not answer and Meena feared that he was thinking of a way to let her down gently.

“I have heard many things about the effects of lyrium on the bodies of injured mages. The red lyrium is strange, but there is an old Orlesian remedy I know that may help.” She gasped as his fingers trailed down lower over her belly until they were near the apex of her thighs. “It requires us to get very intimate. Would you allow me –”

“Yes,” she rasped. “A-anything, please!”

Fire flared up in her core as his large, warm hand quickly cupped her sex, rubbing insistently over her slick slit. Michel slipped one finger in between her lips with a lewd squelch. He pressed his face into the side of her neck, scraping his teeth and flicking his tongue along her pulse point in time with the slide of his finger.

The wet heat on the surface of her skin bled down to her bones. She was feverish and lightheaded, nearly overwhelmed by the pleasure, but she didn’t want him to stop. He added a second finger and stroked them over her inner folds, the unrelenting pressure almost painful. She mumbled nonsensically as she rocked her hips into his touch. After a few gentle tugs on her clit, hot ecstasy sparked within her. Meena climaxed with a shout and heat raced up her spine, unthawing her body as warmth spread through her ice-cold limbs.

As she shook and shuddered out the end of her peak, a tingling sensation replaced the piercing chill in her body. Gone was the feeling of dead weight in her arms, hands and feet.

But she wasn’t sure if it would be enough to get her out of the clear.

Michel maneuvered them to a better position with her leg thrown over his, opening her more up to him. He circled the heel of his palm against her clit and slipped one long finger into her drenched quim. He started off slow – curling and thrusting his finger to massage her walls for more. 

“Ah – I need more, please Michel!” She begged as she canted her hips down onto his finger.

He sucked at her neck and slid two more fingers in her with ease. Her hips stuttered in their jerky rhythm as his fingers surged up, filling her just the way she needed. With a well-timed twist up against her sweet spot and she shattered quicker than before. Her back arched and her toes curled as an agonizing ecstasy flowed through her once more.

Michel rubbed soothing circles on her hip bone and murmured sweet nothings into the crook of her neck as Meena caught her breath. As she came too, she became aware of how hot and firm his prick felt pressed between them. Even with the satisfaction from her previous orgasms teeming through her system, Meena could not resist the temptation to rock her hips back against him. He hissed and pulled away from her.

“Meena you should rest – ”

“I will, right after I have you.” She moved his damp hand from her hip and placed it over one of her breasts. As if on reflex, he began massaging the tender mound, drawing out a long heady sigh from her.

“The remedy only requires that you reach your climax. I can take myself in hand.”

He gently circled her nipple with his thumb. “Mmm, but you reaching your peak will help me reach my own. ”

“I highly doubt – ugh, Meena!” He let out a strangled moan as she pressed back against him more insistently. He lowly muttered something in Orlesian as he disengaged from her. “Lay down on your back.”

Meena did as she was told and elevated her hips with one of the blankets. Instead of surging in and fucking her, he surprised her by exploring her body with his hands and mouth. He took his time caressing her curves and pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses on her scars. There was a gentle heat in his eyes that made her heart beat faster. He made her feel wanted – feel like they weren’t in their situation and were just two lovers taking their time.

After a moment, he took hold of himself and began teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock. He wasn’t the longest she’d ever seen, but he did not disappoint in girth.

“Please,” she choked out as he slipped the tip into her.

Michel gave her a dark smile that dripped in debauchery as he eased his weeping cock into her pulsating cunt. His thick length eased in and out until he finally bottomed out – stretching her walls in the most delicious way. There was no way he could’ve fit in her without the earlier effort from his fingers.

He suddenly snapped his hips against hers and all thoughts fled from her mind. Her moans, his grunts and the wet slap of sweaty skin on sweaty skin made a wicked melody that echoed through the small room.

“Fuck – Michel! Yes!” She screamed as his length rubbed against her inner sweet spot. Meena twisted her hands into the blankets as pleasure crashed over her.

He shifted his hands from her legs to her hips and pounded into her harder. She sobbed as he pushed her closer to the edge with every powerful surge. Without missing a stroke, he bent over and captured one of her nipples with his lips. He alternated between sucking and laving both of her breasts. 

He swiveled his pelvis against her clit just right and she came with a wail. After two jerky thrusts he spilled himself within her. She sighed in contentment as spurts of his hot seed filled her.

She turned them over with her newly returned strength and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Sometime later, a newly warmed Meena awoke to the feeling of fingers massaging her scalp. Michel’s hand stilled as she shifted around.

“My apologies my lady,” Michel whispered as he pulled away. “I do not wish to take anymore liberties with you.”  

“What liberties?” She snorted and pushed him back down on the bed. He eyed her wearily as she snuggled closer to him.

“Those… intimate liberties. I must confess that there are other methods that could’ve brought relief to your problems. None of them would’ve worked as quickly as our coupling did but…” he trailed off. He swallowed harshly. “I feel some shame in not making these other options available to you. It was unworthy of me to allow my infatuation to supersede my duty to protect you.”

“You’re… fond of me?”

His face flushed prettily as he nodded in affirmation. She was stunned.

“Though our time together has been brief, I care a great deal for you Meena.” Her breath hitched at the sincerity that shone in his beautiful blue eyes. “But I understand if I make you uncomfortable after our ordeal.”

She couldn’t believe that he possibly felt the same way about her. Meena was thrilled at the news, but also nervous for what that meant outside of this room. She was the big bad Tal-Vashoth Inquisitor and he was the mysterious Orlesian chevalier. The books full of fairy tales about star crossed lovers weren’t about people like them.

But didn’t mean that she couldn’t try to work with whatever this was between the two of them.

Meena cupped Michel’s cheek and moved in to press her lips against his. He responded with fiery hot passion, kissing her breathless just like she’d dreamed of being kissed. Eventually they came up for air and she giggled at his swollen lips and rustled hair.

She struggled to find words as he traced a finger down her nose, her jaw and over to the hollow of her neck.  

“W-we should try to um – we could maybe – er perhaps –”

“One hundred yeses,” he said with a smile. “As long as I can be by your side, I’ll always say yes, Meena.”

As he peppered kisses to her collar bone, all she could think of is how warm his words made her feel.


End file.
